The Last Princess [EDITED]

Chapter 9

I woke to clattering noises.

I looked around at the room, blinking rapidly. The events of the last night came flooding back to me.

I was in the rebel camp. In Birch's house. And it was - oh, Nalvia. I bolted straight upright.

It was my sixteenth birthday.

My sixteenth birthday. A day I'd never thought I would live to see. And a day none of my sisters had ever had. Strange, really. That I out of all my sisters would get to experience this day.

Something banged outside.

I jerked, taking a deep breath to steady myself. I already felt on edge - at least I was well-rested. I'd be prepared for whatever happened.

What can you do, even if something happens? You can't defend yourself.

I shut out the doubtful voice inside my head and pushed the sheets to the side. It was the best night I'd ever had, given the bed and the blankets. I stepped in front of the mirror, smoothing my dress and fixing my hair, trying to look presentable. Whoever they were, these people were my hosts, and I'd be polite.

Swallowing once, gathering all my courage, I stepped outside, and walked down the hall to find Birch in the kitchen, picking up a stone bowl from the floor.

He looked up as I came in, "You're awake, Princess."

I looked at the bowl in his hand. His eyes followed mine.

"I'm dead clumsy. Keep dropping things," he said, gesturing to the pan. I only nodded.

Then I heard footsteps. I looked to the side to see a woman walking in. Her dark hair was in a loose bun, strands framing her face.

"What's all the noise?" She asked, looking at Birch. Then her eyes fell on me. They widened, wrinkling around the edges, the dull green in them sparkling. "Oh my, are you - her?"

"I'm the Princess," I supplied.

"Welcome, Princess. I'm Grove Poplar." she said, finally smiling. Her eyes lit up, and I smiled back. Birch's wife? "I'm sorry I wasn't up when you came last night, it was very late - "

"Don't think of it. I wouldn't expect anyone to be up," I said, nodding at her.

She smiled wider before turning to Birch, "And don't think I don't see you trying to hide that."

Birch's eyes widened as he sheepishly held out the bowl, which he'd been hiding behind his back.

Grove huffed, taking it and walking past him. She smacked him on the rear with it before putting it in a drawer.

A door opened and closed again, and a boy walked in.

It wasn't Aiden, though he looked very much like him. He had the same dark green eyes and features, but his hair was a few shades lighter. "Good morning, Dad, Mom," he said, albeit with a yawn, dropping a kiss on his mother's cheek.

I watched, pursing my lips, as his eyes turned to me with unrestrained curiosity. He blinked once before saying, "I'm Arden. And you must be the Princess."

I nodded, "Pleased to meet you."

"He's Aiden's twin," Birch said. I eyed him with new doubt. Did he share his twin's distrust of me?

"I'm making breakfast, sit down," Grove said, her back to us. I followed Birch and Arden to the table, sitting opposite them.

We didn't say anything. The uncomfortable silence hovered until Grove set the honey cakes in front of us. I knew I wouldn't be able to eat too many, so I took one, while Birch and Arden piled their plates.